Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time A Novelisation
by bellathedisenchanted
Summary: Journey through the movie following Dastan and Tamina's thoughts on their adventure. What about those extra/missing scenes, camping in the desert, secretly entering a city, etc? First chapter stand-alone. /ON HIATUS/
1. The Beginning of a Tale

**Hullo all! Caught up in the obsession? Or just thought it was a really good movie? Well, you're so not alone! I've been typing away furiously, the past few days, and what comes out is another movie novelisation. I tried, I wanted to do something different, but I so badly wanted to explore our main character's thoughts during the whole thing. So I've stuck as close to the original lines, as far as I remember anyway, and I'll add bits of missing scenes and such.**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer**: Nope, I definitely didn't make a movie worth 200 milion bucks, and base it on a video game. This is pure fun, an of course, to make sure my writing skills don't rust. Wow, it just struck me. How cool would it be if people PAID you to write fanfics? hehehehe... Seriously though, no I don't own P.O.P.

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_"Most people think Time is like a river, that flows swift and sure in one direction but I have seen the face of time and can tell you they are wrong. Time is like an ocean in a storm, you may wonder who I am and why I say this ,sit down and I will tell you a tale like none that you have ever heard. Know, first, that I am the son of Shahraman, a mighty King of Persia. _

_On our way to Azad with a small company of men we passed through India... Where the promise of Honor and Glory tempted my father to a grievance hell, do you think I felt regret as I gazed upon the destruction we had brought or at least humility of the speed of which a world can be transformed from a good world into a hell, if you think that you are mistaken, from that moment I thought of one thing only, the honor and glory I would bring my father, by fighting like a warrior my first battle..." Prince of Persia: The Sand of Time Game_

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Tamina sat on the bed, looking straight at him. She was beautiful, her robes very much like the cream she wore during their adventures together. Her eyes, so fine, concealed secrets. Yet he had unveiled those secrets, secrets which even she knew not, he knew.

Dastan approached her, trying not to seem to eager. He recalled what he had though of this night. Their wedding night. He knew he would not force her into anything, not just yet. He would take time, to know her as before. As per both Alamutian and Persian traditions, they had not been allowed to talk to each other since their walk in the garden weeks ago.

But he had not been able to resist, climbing over the walls of her palace, till he had swung accidentally, into to her private chambers one night. They had talked then. Argued, that was more like it. Exchanging barbs. This Tamina still posessed her shrewd tongue. But a little by little, every night, as he climbed into her balcony, she would be waiting, though denying that. Slowly, they had gotten to know each other But the fateful night. On the eve of their wedding, a sudden awkward silence, it had led to this.

"_Dastan, "she had said, suddenly determined, "I know you have used the Dagger." _

_He had been shocked, though it ought to have been expected. Tamina was observant, clever, beautiful. She would have found out. And yet, he hadn't expected this. Not on the eve of their wedding._

_He had been about to deny it, but the look on her face silenced him. He had wondered, what made her reveal this that night, when she had spoken up._

"_You knew Dastan. As a Guardian of the Dagger, I can sense your Fate tied to it." She paused. "You know your way around the palace, the secret temple. And it is not through your persian wiles. __And I've seen how you look at me. At your family."_

_Her tone had turned gentle, and Tamina hadn't need to expound on what his expressions were. The relief that overcame him, every time he took in the faces of those he had watched die, it had to be obvious to the watchful eye._

"_Dastan, I need to know what happened, to protect it, "he had looked at her, as she struggled with the words. "I feel as though I know you, Dastan. That, even beneath your warrior persona, and persian garb, I-I know you're a good man." Her tone had turned soft, and Dastan saw the hint of vulnerability. Immediately, he had reached out for her hands._

_She had looked up at him, their faces close. "I need to know why."_

_He stroked her cheek, moving closer. Bracing himself, he had told her, "It is because you do. Or rather, you did." Her expression was collected, but Dastan felt her shock._

"_Tamina, "he had refused to let go of her, "tomorrow, when we are wed, I shall tell you everything. Give me a day at the very least, to brace myself."_

_She had surveyed him closely, and nodded. He had leaned in, and kissed her forehead, before plunging down her balcony, flying off into the night._

And now, she sat there, his newly-wed wife, her eyes burning with curiosity. He had had time to be calm, and realised it was best. Through the long Alamutian rituals and a Persian wedding, the day had flown through, both of them near each other, but hard-pressed to talk.

He had reached the bed, and sat down heavily, turning away. Dastan felt Tamina inch closer, and her hand on his shoulder. She placed something in his hands. He looked down.

The Dagger. He was awed; he did not think she trusted him so much. He looked back at Tamina, who looked a little hesitant. He knew. She was wondering why she trusted him too.

He had to explain. "Tamina, I have seen the powers of this Dagger, I will not deny that." She nodded, holding on to his every word. He knew had to begin.

"Time." He couldn't help but utter. The air seemed to freeze with the tension, the sway of the trees stilled. The atmosphere was cold, while the Dagger almost glowed, almost as if it had sensed its importance. He looked at her expression. She understood.

"Time," he struggled to describe, "time is like a river, like an ocean in a storm." He knew not why he said those exact words, but it felt right all the same.

Dastan turned to her, She looked at him, as though calculating something. Tamina spoke, her voice soft, but there was a tone of scrutiny, almost to goad him. "Most people think time is like a river, that flows swift and sure in one direction."

"And that, it does not," he replied.

He closed his eyes, trying to gather his strength. Then he felt Tamina's hand one his, comforting him. It was the first gesture of comfort she'd ever shown. He couldn't help but smile a little, and looked at her.

"Dastan, the powers of the Sands are enough to drive a man mad. You have used them, and you can derive comfort from telling your tale."

"A tale, I fear, even you may not believe Tamina." He looked at her raised eyebrows, and smiled.

"Very well," he sighed, knowing not how to start. Tamina seemed to sense this.

"Tell me of the siege." She spoke. " I assume this is where it all quite started." Dastan nodded. She kept her eyes on him, and he leaned out to kiss her cheek, feeling her blush a little, but she did not lean back. A comfort, before anything.

Inhaling the scented night air of Alamut, he thus began.

"It was midnight, and our troops had gathered around your walls. Yet I decided to breach your walls. My men..."

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**What did you think? I'll be updating everyday (yes everyday, or sooner) till real life catches up. Please do review! I love hearing your thought, and finding people to ramble on with.=) Reviews make me very happy!**


	2. Invading a Holy City

Hello! An action-packed start for all. I'm definitely an amateur in action sequences, and this deviates a little from the original shots from the movie, but heck, its been 3 months since I watched the entire thing. More of a filler.

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TWACK! The arrow bounced off the wall, and Dastan swiftly removed his hand, in the nick of time. He rolled his eyes at Babar, who peaked through moonlight bushes, and made an apologetic sign at him.

That was a close shave, Dastan thought, climbing up the remaining arrows. Reaching the top, he peered through the small pillars.

"Hey-"the guard yelled, muffled before he was smashed into the walls, and Dastan jumped onto the roof.

Alamut was quite the city of chances, Dastan thought, signalling his troops to come forward; he had never encountered a kingdom so relaxed in its defences. There were hardly any guards patrolling the eastern gate.

The group scaled up the wall quickly, with the ease of many years practice, as Dastan pulled them in. They jumped in and huddled over, drawing their swords, ready. Bis, his loyal friend through the ages, looked out into the distance, observing the huge iron gates.

That's our way in," Bis observed, while Dastan rolled his rope, "There are two gates, though the outer one is easy. " His voice held a little doubt though. The soldiers looked out, gazing the pulley contraption, on top of the gate, "The mechanism, there are two guards, in the tower."

Dastan nodded, his mind already forming a plan on breaching into the city. The men grunted in agreement. The city had complex systems, and machinery which they rarely encountered.

"The inner gate, it is said to be impossible to break through." Bis said.

Dastan chuckled, and his friend looked at him, questioning his sanity. Dastan shook his head, while sheathing his sword. "Bis, there is always a way in. You take the men to the outer gate, and leave the impossible one to me."

Bis shook his head in resignation, and whispered the command to the troops."You won't be happy until you have us all killed Dastan."

"Oh, wonderful speech Bis" Dastan said sarcastically, "Rousing". Oh, trust Bis, the mighty Bis, Dastan thought, to know battle schemes. He was similar in that aspect to his brothers, both who were unwilling to change old tactics, not even for a siege.

A new sun was creeping up the horizon, spreading its fierce orange streaks. The moonlight had waned. Then, dawn broke, and Dastan knew he had to get going.

He moved forward with the group, looking out into the distance. There was the guard, circling in a tower. Dastan motioned his man, and he fired the arrow at him. It struck! A shrivelled cry was heard as the guard fell dead.

"Sound the alarm!" a voice in the distance was heard. They had been spotted.

"Oh, praise the Creator!" Bis cried out.

"Well," Dastan replied, "the element of surprise could only last so long."

_Thwang_! A string of arrows were launched, and one of his own men fell. Dastan cursed.

"Go!" he urged, and Bis marched off, with the troops, first cry of battle was heard, and the fighting ensured.

He knew however, he needed to breach the inner gate. Two guards stood in front him, holding strangely carved swords, identical expressions of shock.

"Seize him!" one cried, and they rushed forth. But he was too quick, and jumped at the guards, looping their wrist together with his rope.

"Here, hold this, "he thrust a cord into their hands and smirked, taking in their confounded expressions. Hastily, he ran over the balcony, swinging off the rope down to the storey below. Dastan jumped off, crashing into a new set of amazed Alamutian guards.

"You-Persian!" the clean shaven one spluttered, and they both held up their bows. He fended them off with ease. Running along, and jumping through the walls, they were all driven through.

Once they were all knocked down, Dastan looked around furtively, before rushing forth, and began to turn the wheel. The gate opened with ease he had not expected, and he cried out in triumph.

The walls of Alamut had been breached, after a millennium. He signalled to his men and saw Bis receive it, riding off into the night. His brothers would know of their success.

A sudden guard appeared, his entire countenance seething, and only in time did Dastan duck out of the way.

He let go of the wheel, pushing the soldier into in at the same time.

"Aarugh!" he screeched, and there was a sickening crunch as his spine was crushed.

"Oh curse the gods," he uttered, looking to the ground. The Alamutian troops were marching onward. His own troop would not survive.

He had to block the entrance, Dastan thought fast, as he fended off the Alamutian soldiers. His brothers would not be here in time. Their sword techniques, he thought as they clashed, were different, but terribly simple.

"There," Dastan grunted, and drove his sword through his last opponent. Then, grabbing a rope off , he tied a intricate Persian knot onto the weight lever . Oh, he had to move fast! He scampered up, walking to the very end of the ledge.

Dastan couldn't help but gasp. The whole of Alamut, he could see. It was truly breathtaking. He almost regretted the bloodshed. But they were enemies. He cleared his head. If he did this, Persia would be triumphant.

Taking in a deep breath, Dastan muttered to himself "Here we go."

And he swung himself down, propelling sideways into the building, swinging across; he threw the match into the bell tower, vibrating through the city. Ahh, there was the rope, containing all that would make a difference. Drawing out his sword, he slashed at it, with all the speed the Creator would grant him.

_BOOM!_ The ground thundered as the persians marched, in their thousands. They had arrived!

"Yes!" Dastan cried, as the rope cut, unleashing a rain of oil. He grabbed off a burning torch, and swung off his rope once more. Thrusting down, and threw it into the oil, pouring down.

A passage of fire was formed, and the Alamutian soldiers were effectively blocked, by the passage of fire.

Dastan swung off the rope, landing on the ground with grace befitting one who scrambled along walls since childhood. He took his swords out once more, face glorious, and walked off.

Broad daylight now filled the palace courtyard, as the Persian soldiers strived forth, ruthless in their destruction of all Alamutians, now battling to their very deaths.

His job, he knew, was to make sure no one escaped, such as the fabled princess of Alamut. The only way of flight would be through the gates. Before he had time to process his time, he heard hooves, dangerously close.

"Aargh!" a man lunged, his face filled with wrath, and only instinct made Dastan back out of the way, long spear appearing into full sight. Then a man, clad in silk riding past, clutching a bundle.

"Oh no, you don't, "Dastan muttered, and ran towards the wall. Bracing himself, he sprinted across the wall of the tunnel, crashing onto the horse. It neighed and stopped, lifting its hooves perilously high, knocking both of them off.

"You filthy Persian!" the man spat, standing tall and drawing out a sword.

Dastan shrugged, replying as they circled in other, "Says noble Alamut, trading secret weapons to the enemies of my empire."

"We have no weapons, "the man hissed and drew forth his sword, while clutching the bundle to the side. Without warning, he stroke forth at Dastan, who cursed, as he blocked at his oncoming moves.

He was skilled, Dastan thought, as they gasped and grunted, each delivering the death blow. But he was no match for Dastan, though he was strong and tall.

"Hah!" Dastan yelled, knocking the bundle off the man's arms. The Alamutian warrior stood for a moment in shock, but recovered himself. He shoved forth; ready to drive his sword into is enemy.

But Dastan was fast, and backed towards the bundle. Whatever was in there, it was important to the man, and he would let lower his defences near it.

But Dastan could not have predicted its true consequence. His opponent's eyes widened in fear, as Dastan approached the fallen bundle, and wildly he abandoned any posture of defence.

He hesitated not, and plunged his sword into the man, whose sudden shriek was silenced, and he lay dead.

Dastan heaved, relieved. His opponent had been formidable. It was clear he was of some importance in the court of Alamut, his clothes in the least proved it. He bent forward, looking at the bundle. It spread out now, over Alamutian desert. Across, there lay the weapon it concealed.

"What in the world..." he trailed off. It was a dagger. Dastan bent, picking it up. Engraved in were minuscule jewels of every sort, the biggest of which was a ruby on the handle.

It seemed more ornamental that that of a weapon. Scripture in a language foreign was carved, into its blade, itself made of a strange metal he had yet to encounter.

But what was fascinating was the handle. Through its transparent glass, glass of a remarkable toughness, swirled sands.

"It isn't a very sharp one, for sure," Dastan murmured mindlessly. What was the significance of this, to drive a man out, through certain doom, protecting it?

He tucked it into his belt, and got up. It was then Dastan noticed that the fighting had stopped, and saw his Persian troops herding the Alamutians into their own palace, defeated. A shell was blown, the signal of victory. And in this case, Dastan thought, it was clear who the champion was.

He had better make his way to the palace.

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**A/N :** that was hard stuff writing. I'm sure it was more fun watching it. Don't worry, next chap will keep the plot moving. Please do review, I'm sure all of you here know how wonderful it is to get back some feedback, of even a teensy message is totally fine. I need all the support I can get to keep this going.=D

OH, and if you can point out typos and such, please do.=)


	3. Meeting the Persians

Chap 3 here! See, I do keep my promises.=D W've followed Dastan so far, let's see what Tamina is getting up to. I know, this tale is being told by Dastan, but it so needs the old Tamina's views too.

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Tamina bowed low, praying with all her might to the gods. Alamut had not been breached for a thousand years. It had thwarted the invasions, and always it had involved the Dagger. This was the reason she knew, as it always had been. The Dagger was the reason, whatever excuse the Persians dared to give, they were after the Dagger. Thank the Gods Asoka had escaped in time. There was chattering and the sound of weapons, and she felt people surrounding her.

The Persians had entered the city.

A harsh voice spoke above her. "Silly songs and scented smoke will do little for you now princess."

Silly songs indeed, she scoffed and snatched her blade from the floor, pointing it into the person's neck taunting her.

Someone grabbed her arm, and she dropped the sword, a sign of surrender. It was an elderly Persian, garbed in fine blue robes. Of course, Tamina thought. The Vizier of Persia, the King's brother.

He turned to the man who'd taunted her. "I think you'll find more to her than that, Garsiv." They both chuckled.

So it was Garsiv then, the second prince of Persia. She pulled her hand from the Vizier's grip, fuming. How dare they assemble their troops their troops here! How dare they invade the holy temple!

Tamina looked up, at a red-haired prince. This had to Tus, the heir apparent to the empire. She smirked a little, under the veil. What a man would do to prove his worth as the next King?

Prince Tus, looked at her deliberately, and pushed off the head-scarf. She tried to ignore the collective oohs. Persians. Surely they had seen a woman before.

"So for once, the stories are true." The prince said, looking straight at her. His troops let out raucous laughter.

She glared at him, but could only do so much before the Vizier addressed her.

"We know you have secretly built weapons for our enemies" the man smirked looking her over. "Show them to us, and we might let you surrender."

She was incredulous. So this was the reason to conquer her city? "We have no secret forges here!" she cried out, "and whatever weapons we had you have overcome."

And no doubt pilfered it all already, she thought.

"Our spies say differently," Tamina turned, as Prince Garsiv spoke, his tone angry."You can save a lot of pain-"

"All the pain in the world will not help you find something that doesn't exist!" she threw back, watching his eyes widen in surprise. So they were going to search her city for the make-believe weapons.

Even if they did find the sandglass, they may yet be clueless of its worth. Without the Dagger, it was but a luminous Hourglass, albeit indestructible.

Tamina smiled inwardly. In a way, she had still won. She turned back to the prince Tus, who was still looking intently at her. How crude could they be?

Tus cleared his throat, and addressed her loudly. "Spoken by one wise enough to consider a, he deliberately left the sentence hang, "political solution." Marriage, so that she would be his to covet. Revulsion filled her.

"Join hands with Persian's future King" Prince Tus said, holding his hand out to her. She fumed. Oh, the arrogance.

"I'd die first,"" Tamina declared, holding her head high. Anything would be better than joining hands with a Persian. The heir, she knew, already had many wives. She would not be a one in royal harem.

"As you wish," he mocked, drawing out his sword.

It was that moment, a moment was would change time. The moment that alter the course of that which was to follow, the course of destiny. Tamina had looked away instinctively, and in that moment, she glanced at the Dagger.

"Don't!" she cried. What was the Dagger doing here? She straightened, walking a few steps sideways. The path was clear, as she was staring straight into the face of a Persian. He seemed like a soldier, but had a regal air to him. This man, perhaps a general, who so carelessly tucked the gift of the Gods at his belt. He looked at her in surprise, and confusion, but she did not avert her eyes.

She couldn't end her life now. Not till she had that Dagger.

Keeping his eyes on the soldier, she spoke to Prince Tus. "Promise me," Tamina said, "Promise me, that my people will be treated with mercy." She felt her voice shake. Her poor people, completely innocent. The Persians were known to be barbaric. They would not survive. Marrying the heir of the Persian throne would change but a little.

But she had to keep her eyes on the Dagger. The prince stepped forward, lifting her hand and giving it a rakish kiss, triumph in his eyes. A roar broke through the room.

She turned to look at the soldier once more.

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Dastan saw the procession, his brother about to kill the princess, when she stopped him instead. She was beautiful, just as the tales had been told, different from the Persian women. The he felt her eyes, a spark in them, looking straight at him.

He knew something was going on, as the princess scrutinised him. She had changed her mind then, still keeping her eyes on his, and accepted Tus' proposal. He assumed, it was a proposal of marriage.

Something told him, he was quite sure if he had not walked in that moment, Alamut would not have had a sovereign still.

But how could the Princess know him? It almost seemed as if, as though he held some power he knew not. Only after gazing at him did she change her mind. What did it mean?

Dastan shrugged it off. He would reflect over this strange situation later. He had conquered the city for his brother, and was fully determined to douse his joy in some good drink. Where was Bis?

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**A/N :** Hem hem, do you guys know the 'r' word. Its revered, right, so rewarding. Its 'review'!


	4. The Aftermath: A Victory to Persia

**Hmm, I can feel this isn't going to be my best chapter. I think my next will be better though, I've always loved the escape in the movie. Anyway, hope you like this one.**

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Dastan walked out of the palace, and immediately the air was pierced with cries. Persian troops were scattered around the court, cheering at him, and he distinctively heard one shout, "All hail the Lion of Persia!"

He could not help but grin, and waved, taking an exaggerated bow, evoking another roar of laughter from his troops.

So when he walked into the royal tents, it was with a cheerful demeanour, only a little part of his mind feeling sill unsure about their abrupt siege. His uncle Nizam was already there, sorting through some parchment.

"Ahh Dastan," he smiled fondly, "brave as you always are my boy. They're calling you the Lion of Persia."

Dastan grinned, laying his weapons down. "Yes, I've heard."

He would not deny it felt good, his first true conquest as a warrior. He stretched his hand, examining his wounds, when his brother walked in. "Tus!"

"Dastan," Tus replied. He had a slight smile on his face, but his expression was inscrutable. Dastan wondered if he ought to brace himself for a long admonishment. Was Tus cross with his defiance?

"They're calling you the Lion of Persia" he commented, stopping his tracks. Dastan wondered if this would now permanently be the way he would be greeted. He shrugged, still unsure of his brother's feelings, when Tus grinned.

"You've never excelled at following orders, Dastan" Tus said, shaking his head.

He let out a sigh of relief. No reproach then. "I know I have some explaining to do, Tus-"

"No" Tus interrupted, "No"

Dastan stopped, and Tus put his arm over his shoulder. "No, Dastan. We've got some celebrating to do! Honour to the empire." he grinned, but his voice trailed off suddenly.

Dastan looked down at what his brother was staring at. The dagger, tucked at his belt. Tus reached out for it, inspecting it.

"What a beautiful dagger," his voice was clearly admiring. Dastan saw that his brother quite distracted, as he examined it. So the dagger seemed to appear. ..unique, and not just to him.

Tus broke out of his momentary daze, and pressed the dagger back into his hand, continued as before, "There is however tradition, since you took the honour of first assault, you owe me a gift, homage-"

Nizam, having observed the entire exchange silently, now stepped forward, and addressed Tus. "He delivered you this city and its princess, I think that is homage enough."

"I suppose it is" Dastan shot a plea look at his brother. He certainly did not desire scouting about for suitable gift, right after battle too. Damn traditions.

"and I agree," Tus continued, unexpectedly," but you still need something to honour our father with".

"Sire!" the voice of a guard came out, shouting. They all turned, as the messenger bowed low, "First despatch has just arrived, my prince" he said, handing Tus a parchment.

Nizam looked over, reading it out loud. "Wonderful news, Tus, your father has interrupted his prayers at the Eastern Palace to join us."

The atmosphere seemed to fall, and even the desert air seemed cold. The two brother s glanced at each other, unnerved. King Sharaman never stopped his evening prayers, unless during attacks and wars. He really must be furious. Dastan looked down, a little ashamed. Perhaps, perhaps he ought to have waited, consulted with the King before planning his attacks .

Tus coughed, forcing a smile. "You'd better go then little brother. Nothing extravagant for Father. He wishes,"he pursed his lip, "a private conversation."

Dastan nodded, and waving to his uncle, walked off. He hoped his father wouldn't be too hard on Tus.

"Dastan!" a familiar voice called, and he smiled slightly. Finally. It was Bis, who came running into view. Quickly, he seized him and pulled him to the crowds.

"Whoa, slow down Bis. What are you doing?"

"Getting the lion of Persia of course." He grinned, "You didn't get us killed."

"Certainly thanks to your faith in me," he smirked.

Dastan then explained that he needed a gift of homage, to his father, and of Tus' situation. Bis was sympathetic, but optimistic, as his usual self.

"Tus will be fine Dastan, " he assured, "As for your gifts, Alamut has is treasure trove. We'll find something just fine, Dastan. Let's celebrate first!" Bis clapped him hard.

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Concentrate Dastan, he told himself,. The troops cheered, and he shook himself. Alright then, one, two-

THUD! He fell back to the ground. "Aurgh!" Dastan grunted, his tipsy head pulling him down. Why was it so hard to walk walls when you were drunk?

"The third step is the hardest" he groaned. His troops laughed, and helped him to his feet once more. Shaking his head, he tried to clear his thoughts before attempting again, when he spotted Tus walking towards him.

"Brother!" Dastan exclaimed, wondering why he was here at this hour.

"Dastan," he smiled, "I knew I'd find you here." His brother explained,"We uncovered signs of tunnels on the Eastern edge of the city." Dastan nodded as his brother continued to explain.

"We're on our way there now" Tus continued, "It is no doubt that is where Alamut's treachery lies."

Dastan nodded again, feeling that was the best he could. But if Tus was busy, who'd greet their father. He spoke up,"But you'll miss the banquet, Tus." At least his brain was not fully dead from the mead.

"You and Garsiv can handle father in my absence," Tus replied, confience in his voice. "We need to go there."

Then he smiled, looking at Dastan with a peculiar smile. Dastan was befuddled, and sent his brother a questioning look.

"So you do have a gift to honour him with?"Tus smirked.

"Of course," Dastan said, a little too fast. He called out to Bis, vaguely remembering a particularly fine set of weaponry they sorted out from the Alamutian weapons. Bis looked at him, his face confused, and shrugged, dousing himself with more wine.

"It's been momentarily misplaced" he said, feeling a little ashamed and annoyed, reminding him never to entrust his friend with fine objects.

"I knew you'd forget" Tus said, chuckling slightly, and he held up a piece of fine cloth. "This is the prayer robe of Alamut's regent, the holiest of the Eastern land. Father shall certainly," he tilted his head slightly, "appreciate this."

"Thanks, brother, you've saved me."

"You fought like a champion for me Dastan, glad to return the favour" Tus said, and Dastan grinned. His brother was staring up, into the palace.

Dastan followed his gaze, still a bit dazed from drink. Princess Tamina was being escorted to the room, probably to prepare for the ceremonies. He looked at Tus, who seemed quite distracted by her.

"A rare jewel, "Tus spoke admiringly, and Dastan saw the lust in his eyes. He was surprised, for Tus didn't have a great fondness for women in general. His previous marriages had been solely political arrangement. Garsiv however, was another story, once he overcame his temper.

Tus resumed speaking. "Present her to the King for me this evening Dastan,"

"Sure you need another wife brother?" Dastan asked. He suddenly felt a little sorry for the princess. After all, his brother had a quite a harem full of women, to secure their political ties with other prominent kingdoms and keep the Persian empire strong. Though, he never did have such a beautiful fiancé though, certainly never particularly desired any of them.

"Listen to me, "Tus growled, and he was taken aback at the sudden fierceness in his brother's voice, "a marriage to the princess assures me the loyalty of her people. Unbound to us she is a dangerous liability. I want you to promise me brother, " he paused, and Dastan nodded, knowing he'd do anything, " promise me you'll kill her with your own hands if father doesn't approve of our alliance."

Dastan couldn't help but flinch a little. He was used to the bloodshed and killing in war, it was thrilling. But his brother had never tasked him with such a cold-hearted murder.

Tus slapped him hard on the back, and smiled. I knew you'd make me proud, little brother." And he walked to his horse, commanding the troops off.

Dastan felt his spirits lift, and couldn't help smile at this praise. He looked at the balcony again, and caught the princess walking in the balcony once more. She was scrutinising him, again. The princess caught his eyes. She gave him a unfathomable look and turned back.

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**Not too good, I know. I haven't got a beta, so there may be quite of few things to nitpick. Still, review please? -puppy eyes-**


	5. The future of Alamut

**Here'a new chap.=) I changed the rating, T definitely is a bit much for this story. **

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"My lady, "a familiar voice, called, and Tamina turned around reluctantly. She had just seen the man with the Dagger, talking to the prince Tus. There seemed all too familiar with each other. She was certain now, he could not be a mere soldier. No, she was starting to suspect the was noble himself . What about the third prince, whom she hadn't thought was present then.

Her handmaidens cleared their throats, trying to get her attention. Saara, one of her newest servants, stepped forwarded, her hands shaking with panic.

"We've been ordered by Prince Tus, to...prepare you. For the celebrations." she struggled.

Tamina pursed her lips, looking down at her hands. Her sacred symbols. She sighed, turning away, then and followed her servants in.

The maids were quite upset themselves, Tamina noticed. Many of them had been serving her for through their years, and in single day, bound to another sovereign. One she was to wed.

When she had been seated, the handmaidens busied themselves, rubbing the marking off her skin.

"Your highness," a soft voice spoke. Tamina looked up, seeing the familiar face. She was a young handmaid, around her own age, sometimes, had almost a friend to Tamina.

"Aisha," she greeted.

Aisha was fidgeting, clearly uneasy. "I'm so sorry, my lady. For what you're to go through for the people" Tamina was surprised.

"It is not your fault Aisha," she said, hoping to calm the girl down. She was still the princess, albeit a fallen one, and after all, expected to be in control of the situations.

"These orders," Aisha continued timidly, "I know you're quite helpless, my lady. As I am." She said the last part softly, but they could all hear her. Aisha dabbed her hand with a cool cloth,"Please, your highness. The people of Alamut shall forever be in your debt. You've spared them far worse. At least you still are our sovereign. And I quite hope, if it is not too bold to say,-"

"Yes Aisha?"

"Since Prince Tus is heir apparent, you might still retain control of this city," she smiled sadly, rubbing off the henna, "he may soon be too occupied with other skirmishes."

Tamina sighed at her handmaiden. Through the years, they had talked and known each other, Aisha's words, no matter how innocently made, had never comforted her so little. Her heart was struck cold, as a new realisation dawned upon her. Her people were grateful, they were spared yet.

The myths of the Sandglass were widespread and commonly told within walls, but so romanticized, they were thought to be just that; myths.

Only her trusted guardians and the High Council knew of the secret to unlock the Sands. Sometimes it had been tasked-

Tamina winced in pain, as a particularly sharp blade carved designs into her skin. A Persian symbol, no doubt.

She concentrated on her memories, letting them flood her. How her mother first brought her into the temple, and showed her the powers of the Dagger. How she was led through the Hindu Kush, learning of secret passageways.

The time had come to use them. But, after Aisha's words, she now knew she had to truly marry the Prince Tus. Only after the wedding, could she attempt to steal off in the night. It was the only way to protect her people.

Tamina let out a shudder. Prince Tus was not uneasy on the eyes, but his coarseness, his proud posture, no doubt he'd force her into, _intimate_ relations early on, in their marriage.

And she'd have to comply. Tamina turned away, letting a single tear fall.

Then she smiled bravely at the handmaiden, nodding. "Let us hope so." But she feared it.

Aisha sensed her sovereign's discomfort, and tried to distract her. She began hesitatingly, trying to change the topic. "I saw you were looking at the princes, my lady,"

"Princes?" Tamina could not help exclaim, "What do you mean?"

Aisha looked at her in surprise. "My lady, that was Prince Dastan, younger brother of Prince Tus."

Tamina nodded, masking her surprise. Of course, the thought had crept into her mind. She shouldn't have been so shocked. The lion of Persia, she mused. She'd heard the Persian troops call him that, the youngest prince she thought she'd yet to meet, as she was escorted to her chambers. They were all toasting to him, the true conqueror of her city.

She suppressed a grimace. It would not to let fury control her. In fact, this all made it easier, Tamina tried to think. As the younger brother of her soon-to-be betrothed, she'd be able to watch him more closely. Watch the dagger closely.

Yes, it was made all the more convenient, for the prince to be closer. Yet, the danger of the dagger had now increased tenfold. Should he find its secrets, Tamina only shuddered at what would happen.

"Your highness, you're ready." Saara spoke. And indeed she was, cleansed of her Alamutian pride. She was to take the exit on the other side. Tamina thought. Aisha pressed her hand, offering a comforting smile. Tamina returned it, knowing that it would be, perhaps the last time she'd see her...friend.

As soon as Tamina opened the door, unfamiliar guards closed down on her. Persians. She was disgusted. But through them, she saw the youngest prince of Persia, coming out, the Dagger at his side.

Dastan had gone up to wait by the princess' chambers. He was quite eager, for the sole curiosity of discovering her character. Demure, perhaps? Or as fiery as the little he had seen? After her constant glances at him, well, any would be curious.

He turned to his troop of guards, positioning them. So when the door burst open, the guards immediately closed in on her. He smiled at her, observing her ill concealed fury.

"So, I am escorted by the lion of Persia. It must feel great, destroying such an innocent city." Dastan smirked, hiding his surprise. Surely she could be more civil to her conquerors.

"Ah, nice to meet you too princess, "he replied, careful to etch sarcasm into every syllable. "Allow me to offer," he continued, "that if punishing the enemies of my king is a crime, then it is one I'll gladly repeat."

He hoped she'd take the hint. Yet, his own words he himself did not truly believe. Evidence of Alamut's treachery had yet to be found, and Dastan, though he certainly would admit it, was wondering perhaps, if they had been wrong after all.

"Then you are a true Prince of Persia. Brutal. Without honour," she shot back.

He felt irritated. The princess may be a beauty, but she had a serpent's tongue. "Don't make the mistake of thinking you know me, princess, "he warned.

"Oh" she replied. Clearly she would not desist. "And what more is there?"

Dastan held his own tongue, and spoke to his guard in the front.

"Wait here with her Highness, Ashaan" He turned back to the princess, who, from her grim expression, clearly did not take well to be virtually imprisioned. He smirked, turning to her,"If you can manage it."

She glanced down, before holding her head high and looking straight at him.

Tus was sure to kill her, Dastan thought. He was not one who tormented jibes, and that too from a woman. He suddenly felt worried.

Tus wouldn't kill her, he would had to. Dastan looked back at the princess, and slipped in a warning. "I suggest a hint of humility when you are presented to the King, for your own good," He looked at her pointedly.

He did not know if she understood, but her lips curved into a small smile. And it wasn't one he trusted.

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**Reviews please? I worked hard for you...=D Seriously, I did.**


	6. Unexpected Turns

**Hullo, to everyone reading this. New chap, its still needs brushing up, maybe I should slow down with the daily updates...I'm not feeling like a perfectionist for this tale though. Its just fun. To the story then.=)**

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The guards threw the gates open, and Dastan walked in. The slave girls were dancing about, to the pleasure of the many cackling soldiers, as the King sat in the middle, a wine glass in his hand. The celebrations had already begun.

Dastan caught the eyes of his uncle, who stood by the King. He walked over, while gazing at his father afar. Words flew fast, of what happened in Tus' chambers. Dastan had heard from the troops that King Sharaman had been none too pleased, to journey to Alamut.

"Dastan," Nizam acknowledged, as he came over.

"You've eased father's anger, uncle" Dastan observed. Indeed, now King Sharaman looked well pleased, enjoying himself amidst the party. His apparent anger had indeed, quite dissipated.

"One day Dastan, "his uncle shook his head, "you'll have the pleasure of being brother to the king. As long as you remember the most important duty, I think you shall do quite well."

"Oh, and what's that?"

"Making sure his wine glass stays full." Nizam rolled his eyes.

Dastan chuckled. He certainly didn't look forward to the idea of holding Tus' goblet. But perhaps, he mused, if it eased wars and family brawls, well, a man had to be humiliated every now and then. He'd get back at Tus somehow, Dastan grinned, feeling a little stupid at planning events that had yet to happen.

"My boy!" King Sharaman called, and he look up. His father had seen him. Dastan walked over, as his father gave him a brief hug.

"I'm told than another of my sons has joined in the rank of great Persian warriors!"King Sharaman said, pride enumerating in his voice.

Dastan grinned. "I do hope so. We've missed you, father," he said.

"So have I, m'boy, so have I." They hadn't seen each other for months, every since their skirmishes started at the borders of Koshkahn.

"I was praying for you and your brothers Dastan," King Sharaman paused. "Family," his voice softer, as he looked into his son's eyes, "the bond between brothers that is the sword that defends out empire; I pray that that sword remain strong."

Dastan nodded, understanding. It was what he had been told, what his brother had been told, ever since he's joined the ranks of prince. He continued, changing the subject, "I was hoping my actions would spare our men unnecessary losses Father."

Sharaman leaned closer to his song, shaking his head. "A good man would have done as you did Dastan, act boldly and courageously to bring a victory and spare lives."

"However," the king held his son's hand, to press his point, "a great man would have stopped the attack from happening. A great man," he paused, sipping a bit of wine, "would have stopped what he knew to be wrong, no matter who was ordering it.

He looked closely at Dastan, who appeared a little remorseful. "The boy, Dastan, King Sharamn continued, his voice containing the wisdom of many years. "The boy I saw in the marketplace , was capable of being more than just good, but of being _great_." He pressed his son's hand, hoping he had understood.

Dastan nodded again. His adoption was never a secret in the persian kingdom. His father talked about it often, and never had anyone allowed to make him feel inferior.

His father was certainly disappointed, but none too much. However, he had to wave his reflections away. He had a task to attend to first.

"Well, in the meantime…"Dastan said, looking up at his Father, "I have a gift for you."

Sharaman sighed, and then smiled at his son. "Very well then, bring it in."

Dastan signalled to Bis in the far corner of the room, and he came forward, presenting the robe Tus had given him. "Father, the Prayer Robe of Alamut's regent, the finest in all the kingdoms."

King Sharaman bowed slightly in acknowledgement, and two servants stepped forward.

He turned to address the room, while his men helped him put it on. "Some questioned the wisdom of my bringing a boy from the streets into my family,. I saw a boy whose blood wasn't noble but whose character, was a king in spirit!" There was a roar of appreciation, and agreement, while Dastan caught his brother Garsiv, at the other end, rolling his eyes, but he was clearly trying to suppress a smile.

Dastan grinned. _When he had first come to the palace, it was...magical. Like he's stepped into heaven. All the riches, the strange jewels and objects from across the empire. And the food, plenty of food. It was important to one, who had been surviving on stale bread of a few years..._

_But what was truly the greatest gift, his family. All of a sudden, he had 2 brothers, who, though initially wary, soon warmed up and he was welcomed as the royal family's own. He'd learnt so much, had gotten a life he didn't know he deserved._

Dastan observed that his father was quite impressed with the robe. He turned to him, well pleased. King Sharamn smiled, clearly impressed. He turned to him, well pleased."Now, m'boy, what can I grant you in return?"

Well, Dastan thought, it's now of never. "Ashaan!" he called out. The guard nodded, and the princess entered, escorted by the troops. There were hushed sighs of admiration, from the persians who had yet to see her. Dastan was almost distracted himself. She was rather striking, he had to admit. Very striking, in fact. He shook himself. If only they were aware of her tongue.

And the way she carried herself, regal and strong, he couldn't help admire her. Just a little. He was almost sure, for were she to lash her tongue out once more, and this time to the powerful empror of Persia, Dastan doubted Tus would have a bride anyway, and that the murder wouldn't be at his hands.

And yet, as the princess halted her tracks, in the middle of the room , he still regretted his duty, should things take a turn for the worst.

Dastan brought her forward, while she leaned as far as she could away from him. He couldn't help but smirk inwardly, holding her a little closer, while she glared.

"Father, may I present to you, the Princess Tamina" He stepped behind her. "Tus wishes to make a union with her people through marriage, and it is my deepest wish that this win your approval," he stressed his last word, a tone of urgency in it, though none detected it.

King Sharaman observed the princess, who looked quite uncomfortable under his scrutiny, "In all my travels you highness," the king said, with great emotion, "I have come across a more beautiful city."

Dastan saw how her eyes glazed over in fury, though her face was composed. Tamina held her head high, and coolly responded, "You should have seen it before your horde of camel-riding illiterates descended upon it."

Upon the Creator, Dastan groaned. Of course, she would have to make some remark. Tamina looked across at him, her eyebrows arched, showing her insubordination. Dastan wondered he ought not have said anything earlier. Perhaps he had, most unintentionally goaded her into incivility.

Many were likewise shocked, the fact a mere princess dared to address their King as such. Dastan stole a glance at his father, to be rather surprised.

King Sharaman looked far from insulted. He look looked at her appraisingly, then loudly pronounced, "Clearly she will make a fine queen."

Dastan grinned, observing the princess' outrage as she turned her face away from the King. There was something almost, delightful, the way she seemed so furious all the time. He knew, he had yet to encounter a noblewoman so proud, so fearless. Or perhaps it was just foolishness. Then again, she was princess of her kingdom.

"But Tus already has enough wives," the King continued, as all attention turned to him once more. Dastan was anxious now. Surely the king would not deny Tus and the princesses' hand in marriage if he approved of her?

King Sharaman turned to him, his eyes twinkling. "You Dastan, might take fewer chances if such a jewel waited in your chambers."

His mind blurred. Did he hear his Father right! Was he actually implying that-

"The Princess of Alamut will be your first wife!"King Sharaman declared.

Dastan was shocked, He was utterly shocked. He certainly felt dizzy now. This, this couldn't be happening! He'd never been so staggered, not even the time he first caught sight of the great palace. A wife? Him? Dastan looked at his father, his eyes pleading.

"What say you, Dastan?"

He opened his mouth, though no words poured out. Dastan cast his eyes about the room, spotting the princess. She looked slightly irritated, and a tad self-conscious. But she certainly could mask her shock, Dastan thought. His Father was looking him, grinning.

"Umm…" was all he could croak. The king chortled, looking around at the room.

King Sharaman teased, "He plunges into a hundred foes without fault, but before marriage he For those who say he is not yet wise." The king winked, and the room erupted in laughter.

Dastan felt his knees go weak. How was he supposed to get out this one? The princess was Tus' bride. Would he have to kill her now? He looked at her once more. He glanced at her once more. She was very beautiful, his mind wandered, with all the right curves...

Stop, he commanded himself. Oh, upon the gods, he needed to get out here! "I need a drink," a mumbled, turning around.

Suddenly, there was a withering shriek. Dastan turned, distracted. In horror he watched as King Sharaman, his father let out another unworldly screech. The laughter had died, as all watch the King writhe. The robe, his prayer robe , it was burning!

He rushed back, all other thoughts blown out of his head. What was happening? "Father!" Dastan screamed. The King starting pulling the robe, writhing in agony. It was smoking! What was happening to his father?

"Stand aside, out of my way!" Garsiv yelled out, nearing him.

Someone screamed."Oh God, the robe! It's poisoned!"

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**I was wondeirng if I should add a lot more extra scenes, and such to this story? Would you guys like that? Hehe, one way to tell me would be reviewwwwwwww.=)**


	7. Escape from Alamut

**Another chap folks, For missing a day yesterday, here's an bigger chap in compensation. =)**

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Tamina could believe it. Murder, there was murder in her temple! It was unbelievable! Emotions, in a total conflict, coursed through her. When she had glanced up the smoking robe, with a little effort she disguised her astonishment very well, with a coolly puzzled expression. But when the man withered, actually shrivelling in pain within her palace walls, she had dropped the facade, and rushed back, her eyes wild with horror.

She was overwhelmed, shocked, no, it was far worse that! Tamina felt sorrowful, even a little, for the king that the King had to die such a horrible death. The atmosphere in the room was thick with shock. For a moment, all ceased breathing, and then, chaos broke out.

"He's poisoned! From the robe!" She turned, as the room did, to the source of the voice. Prince Garsiv was yelling, his eyes wild. "The robe Dastan gave him!" His voice shook in shock and accusation.

Tamina redoubled at this revelation, as did others. She was outraged! Was this the true reason then? Had conquering her kingdom being just part of a Persian's grand scheme to ascend to the throne?

She turned to the prince, and what awaited her, surprised her. The prince has not even heard his brother. No, he seemed far too grief-stricken, by his father's death. Through him, Tamina saw, as one with a pure heart did, what none paid heed to that day. She saw the truth, as Prince Dastan shook his father, yelling out for help.

He could not have done it. The grief in his face was far too real. A flash of white blocked her vision. It was a sword! Tamina looked, seeing that the room had truly exploded.

"No!" she tried to yell, her shock intensified, when the first drop of blood was shed. Tamina watched in revulsion as battle ensured. War, filthy Persians warring in her sacred temples! How dare they! The inner halls of Alamut had yet to see bloodshed, as far as she knew. Since the beginning of time. She stood, frozen with fury.

Concentrate, Tamina chided herself. This was not the time for useless rage! She needed to think of plan. She had to help the prince.

NO, she quickly corrected, not help him, she scoffed, she had to protect the dagger. The prince had the Dagger, she'd had to help him. Oh, her thoughts were flying everywhere!

They had to escape somehow, that was point. She backed out into the walls, as two fiery Persians came forward, lost in their fight. No doubt, one a loyal personage to the youngest prince.

Then she saw the guards march in, ordering by the irate prince Garsiv, their footsteps thunderous even in the turmoil. They were trying to surround the prince!

"Oh, upon the gods, "Tamina murmured. She felt desperate. If they did this, there would be no possibility of flight. But before true terror could kick in, she saw as a bearded man rushed forth, yelling at the prince to escape.

"Bis!" The prince screamed, sheer agony in his voice. A guard crept behind him, and Tamina couldn't help but cry, "Prince Dastan!" He couldn't be harmed, not when he had the Dagger with him!

He did not turn, she doubted he heard her, but halted the attacker at the very last moment. But a Persian guard had indeed turned, and shot her a regnant smile, inching closer.

"Ahh, princess, I suppose someone ought to attend you." He chuckled, eyeing her. Tamina glared at him, looking around frantically for a weapon. The ornaments, no, no use, the fruits, the golden pots-

The pots! Quickly she rushed to the high table, and grabbed one.

"Hah!" Tamina cried out, CLUNK! and she hit the Persian soldier with as much force ass she could muster. She picked up the soldier's sword, fending off the rushing Persians. At least, those whose head had been turned by this incident.

It was good, as she clashed sword with a particularly hefty soldier, that she had the element of surprise, for none of those illiterate fools thought she was capable of defending herself, and even killing a few of them.

Driving her sword through the soldier, Tamina heard him scream and fall dead, to her utmost satisfaction. She could not deny the fact she'd been yearning for the death of a Persian, at her own hands.

Frantically, she turned around, searching for the prince. She saw the prince, still fending off the soldier. Time was rushing past, she had to get to him.

By a miracle, her sword thrust between the armour of her opponent, as he fell dead to the ground. Tamina ran towards the Prince Dastan, and yelled, "Come with me!"

She half-dragged him, so lost he was in bewilderment, groaning in effort, they ran towards the balcony. Ahh, the fountains. She looked back, and oncoming troops. Pushing the prince along, she gulped, and took the plunge.

"What do you think you're doing?" Dastan cried out, as they fell into the splashing water.

"I can get us out of here" Tamina explained, gasping , "You're going to need my help" It wasn't necessarily true, but in this confusion, the prince nodded dazedly, helping her out of the fountain.

"Come on!" he cried, grabbing her hand as they ran towards the stables. He stopped at the saddled horses, all tied to lanky rods.

Tamina watched as the prince ran across the ropes mindlessly, cutting each one off as he did. Tamina marvelled, running alongside him. He reached a horse, just as she halted.

"Come on," Prince Dastan yelled, he held out an arm for her, hoisting her up and they were off.

"Princess, the gate" he turned to her. There were many dirt roads, leading different directions.

"This way!" she cried, looking back at the Persian troops. The others led back to the palace, to certain doom. She grasped onto him tightly, and said, "Hurry!"

He urged the stallion on, whipping its back, and it neighed, galloping off into the wastelands, as the sands drifted across. The cries of the Persians faded, as they tried to restrain the freed horses. Dastan's quick thinking had saved them. Tamina breathed out, relieved. They had succeeded.

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The rode away from Alamut, across the dunes. Dastan was relieved , for Aksh, Garsiv's sturdy horse, was used to the heats of the desert.

He felt the princess, tighten her grip on his waist. Distracted, he tilted his head, trying to sneak a look at her. All he caught was her raven hair, whipping his face. He turned around, distracted. Why had he brought the princess? This, his entire situation was complex enough!

And yet he knew, without her help, he wouldn't be having these thoughts. But if she hadn't, he might never have been able to escape.

What was going to happen? His father, his poor father. It was Tus! He had poisoned the robe!

Dastan felt sickened. He was here, actually escaping from his own kingdom, accused of being a traitor.

No, Dastan knew this wasn't the time for reflection. He urged Aksh forward, clearing his thoughts. They had to get away from Alamut, as far as Aksh could go. And that was what he could concentrate on.

Soon, evening arrived, and the sun was sinking, its rays cooling in the desert. Both Dastan and Tamina could feel Aksh losing speed.

The evening passed, and the dusky sky, flaked with dimmed clouds, revealing stars. Night was falling, and the desert cooled. They still rode on. Finally, night fell, and Aksh now trotted, evidently exhausted.

Dastan did not want to tire the horse. He would need his strength for another journey tomorrow. A journey to where, he did not know, but they had to be on the move. At least, he thought, he did.

He turned slightly. "Princess, we'd better rest for the night."

Tamina nodded, and he handed her down. Without exchanging a word, they numbly set out a makeshift tent. Dastan gathered some wood, the oasis nearby, as the princess sat, creating the fire. They were silent, lost in their own thoughts.

Finally, a burst of heat broke, as the fire was made. He felt heat break through, a comfort through the cold air. It washed his regrets away, even for a moment.

Dastan got up, walking to the horse. Aksh, always a comfort, nuzzled him. His shock, it was waning, as the reality of his situation sunk in. He was in the desert, on the run, accused of crime he did not commit.

The princess had likewise followed his action. Her arms were cross over her shoulder, as she stared out into the darkness. Suddenly, a strange gleam shone in her eyes.

Then she turned, looking straight at him. Dastan surveyed her. Perhaps he had just imagined it. Her eyes had no strange glint. No, but they full of questions.

And what those questions were, he knew. Dastan sighed, turning his back to her.

"I didn't kill my father." Dastan said, thinking back to everything that had happened. He didn't know why he was telling her. He continued. "The robe was given to me by my brother Tus. He did this."

How could Tus do this to him? Yet, he was his brother? Adopted or no, they had shared many fond memories together. And Garsiv, Dastan thought, his heart heavy. So quick to accuse.

But Garsiv had always been quick to jump to conclusions. Tus would surely know by now, of Dastan's supposed treachery. The whole Kingdom would know. He felt sickened. Here he was, accusing his own brother of a crime so, despicable.

And yet it was true.

"And now he stands to be made king," Princess Tamina spoke. He nodded. So she understood, quite as well as him.

"I didn't kill him." He repeated, staring off into the distance.

"I believe you."

Dastan turned around, taken aback. There was truth in her eyes, he saw, as she came nearer. Surely she couldn't trust him so easily? They hardly knew each other. Or perhaps, as he grew wary, she had a plan of her own. Tus had warned him of the princess' 'liability'.

He shouldn't have taken her, he could have found the way to the gates quite easily. She was Tus' bride. What was he, the youngest prince, doing on the run with her?

"You should not be here" Dastan watching her closely, "I shouldn't have let you come" He was in enough peril as it was. What was he thinking, fleeing with the princess of Alamut?

"But you did" she said, and he suddenly realised how close she had got.

He leaned back, unsure. She wasn't thwarted. He had thought she clearly disliked him. But he couldn't let her. She was here. She was seducing him! He tried to clear his thoughts, as a faint scent filled him.

"I promised my brother I'd kill you if he couldn't have you," he murmured, fighting control on his thoughts. Her scent was quite...distracting.

"Well, the solution would be to kiss me, and then kill me." She lay her hand on his shoulders, turning him."But I have a better solution," she came closer, her hands on his chest. Dastan was uncertain, his thoughts a whirl. He should be doing this, he ought to turn...no...

But the princess of Alamut was a beautiful woman. Too beautiful to resist. Perhaps, perhaps he ought to give in. Her lips were alluring, so lush...

Then he felt her tug. He stirred out of the daze, and pulled back, suspicious. She was tugging the dagger. She was trying to attack him! He pushed her away, a little angered. She leaned forward, reaching for the saddle bag, drawing his own sword out.

She turned, holding it out. Princess Tamina, no longer seductive in posture, and Dastan saw the wrath in her eyes.

"I kill you!" she cried, and slashed at him.

"Princess!" he cried, leaping back, "Perhaps we can find another solution!" he suggested, dodging her attacks. Now truly sensing the danger, he whistled to Aksh, who trotted forward, pushing the princess into his arms.

She felt warm, Dastan mindlessly thought for a second, but that moment had been enough, and Tamina wrestled her arm out of his, wrenching the dagger out. Her face, contorted in fury, ready to strike.

With effort, he knocked the dagger out of her hand, sending it flying over. He ran forward, as she turned, picking up her sword, ready to plunge.

She had a firm grip on it now, but Dastan was ever made for battle, and ran towards the fallen dagger. It may be a little blunt, but it was a dagger nonetheless.

It was stuck in the sand, He felt the jewel pressing down, under his pressure. Then, without warning, the handle glowed. Dastan looked on in amazement. Fire, veins of fire, crept up him. What was happening! And the world halted.

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Tamina knew what she was doing, and she held the prince, gazing into his eyes. If he gave into lust, as all the barbaric men were bound to do, she could take the dagger and run.

Dastan looked at her his eyes unsure, and she leaned closer, ready to take her advantage. The suddenly, he said, his tone so different "Did you see that?"

Tamina looked up at him. He was holding up the dagger, staring at it. Was it awe? No, it couldn't be. She felt suspicion. If he even guessed the treasure he held...

"See what?" she asked, and her hand flew to the sword across the saddle, her plan ready, when Dastan caught her.

"Go for that sword again, and I swear I'll break your arm."

"Again?" her voice trembled with shock, and she looked at the dagger again, more carefully. "You've used up all the sand!" she cried horrified.

"What is this power?" the prince asked, his voice filled with wonder.

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**A/N: Well, this was the first scene I scribbled down, when I started this fic. Well, review please? I sure could use some encouragement. **

**I'm sure all of you reading this are fans of the movie, or at least, like it, I hope you pop into** the POP-Circle of writers. Just a place to relax and chat about Prince of Persia, get to know other fans. We'd love to get everyone drop in, and just have fun! This fandom deserves a biger fandom, in fact, the biggest ever fandom lol, but maybe I'm biased. Anyway, just remove the spaces, and hop right in.=)

http : / . net / forum /The_Prince_of_Persia_Circle_of_Writers/ 81213 /


	8. Tha Dagger of Time

**Sigh, chapter titles are hard work, I tell ya. New chap, its pretty rough, I decided to post it anyway, since I'll probably go back through the whole thing to edit once its over.=)**

* * *

"Incredible, "Dastan said, as he looked at the dagger, in a whole new light. "Releasing the sands, turns back_ time_." This was just...remarkable, so...impossible.

"And only the holder of the Dagger is aware this." He glanced at the princess, shock and awe. In his dazed state, he hardly noticed the fear in her eyes.

.This power, in his hands, oh..what a marvel. The day had taken many unexpected turns, yet this, incredible weapon. It far surpassed any other event.

He turned the princess, a sudden burst of questions breaking through. "How much time can it unwind," he demanded, "answer me princess!" She looked up at him, her fury evident, but there was something else. Fear?

Tamina pursed her lip, and spat, "You destroyed my city!"

Her words brought on another revelation, and his mind jolted. "Our invasion wasn't about weapon forges," he began slowly, turning to the dagger, "no. it was about this dagger!"

Her eyes flashed, distracting him. He'd never seen a woman, a young woman of the nobility at least, so...passionate. Shaking his head, Dastan tried to think through the events. His heart then grew cold, as the truth dawned upon him.

His words gushed forth, it all fit! "After the battle, Tus asked for this dagger as tribute I didn't think anything of it, but now I see with it he could change anything."

What could he change though, Dastan thought as he paused, bitter for a moment. He had already killed their father.

"He could change the course of a critical moment in battle," Dastan then realised, "he could foresee the blade of arrival, he wouldn't just be King he would be the greatest ruler Persia's ever seen.

"Greater than my father." Of course. Dastan thought. Tus, already heir apparent to the throne, yet, so eager for the throne. Dastan had seen him, so impatient, his restlessness in proving himself to be a true king. Alamut, as he suspected even then, was perhaps, no, it _was _true, Tus had planned the entire things out!

"It was all about this dagger." He repeated, shocked. Forgeries. What a trick he seemed.

Suddenly, the princess let out a huge sigh, and he looked up, startled. She leaned heavily against Aksh, closing her eyes.

Dastan couldn't help but move closer. She had tried to kill him only moments ago, yet he could not let her die, or faint, cold. Especially, now as twinges of guilt coursed through him. Now that he had discovered, that her city truly was innocent.

And the dagger. His lips curved slightly, even in their web of uncertainty. No wonder she tried to seduce him. How different it seemed, from the blunt, ornamental knife he'd thought to carry around, for no particular reason at all.

Tamina cleared her throat, looking back at him. Her composure was back, but he realised, after watching so many emotions flitting across her eyes, all in a single day, he could discern her expression with surprising ease. She was still afraid.

"I think Prince Dastan, "she said, her voice shaking slightly, and she stopped, turning once more to the saddle bag. Dastan was puzzled, and suspicious. Surely she wasn't so foolish as to attack him once more. "We- we ought to rest."

Tamina drew out her outer robe, and patted Aksh, who sat down. Settling herself beside the horse, Dastan could not help but observe.

"There is more to this, isn't there?"

She looked at him. "No, Prince Dastan, "she coolly replied, "You have discovered all. Turned back time with the precious sands. How could there possibly be more to this?"

Well, sarcasm suited her just fine. Dastan couldn't help but roll his eyes. At least she acknowledged the fact the secrets of the dagger had yet to be dug out. Surely she didn't think he was that much of a fool.

He knew she wouldn't leave at night. Certainly, he was tempted, tempted to leave. He looked at her resting figure. She had already drifted off to sleep.

But he couldn't, Dastan knew. There was so much more to the dagger. And who would know of the Dagger better, than the princess herself. And of course, even he wouldn't be so unkind as to leave the princess of Alamut in the darkest hours of night.

He wasn't sure if she'd be totally helpless though, he smiled, a little. Placing it back to his belt, he took of his own ragged cloak, and lay down.

She was right. They had to rest, to gather their strength for the day tomorrow. And it be, a journey he knew not, after that.

Tamina felt her energy drain her, through the days events. Her city had been invaded, she had almost been betrothed to the eldest prince of Persia, and now, the youngest had found the powers of the Dagger. She knew he would not give it over willingly, and nothing could be achieved at the moment.

She looked at the prince, still awe-struck with the dagger. She knew would have to keep close to him, by any means.

And yet, Tamina had no energy left. "We ought to rest," she said simply.

Dastan stared back at her. They were companions for now, forced to bear each other. What tomorrow would bring, neither of them knew, but for this night, it was best to get some rest.

Tamina went over to the horse Aksh, still standing in his sleep. She spread her robes onto the sand, and took off the saddle. As she lay on it, she felt the prince move, to the other side of the horse.

She shook off his final questions, knowing that he too, was exhausted enough to prod further.

If he tried to leave, in the middle of the night, she would know. Galloping away with the horse right next to her, was outright impossible.

With that, Tamina closed her eyes, and prayed to the gods to help her through the perils she was sure to face.

When Dastan got up, he saw the princess, washing her face in the oasis nearby. It was a stroke of luck, when they had found it last night.

Oh lord. The dagger. He jumped up, and felt into his robes. It was still there. Dastan breathed out, relieved. He knew, if the princess was capable of killing him to take the dagger, she could very well steal it.

Aksh was awake too. Well, it was nice to face a familiar figure. He cleared his sheets, saddling the horse. Dastan knew he had to get on the move. It was no time for dawdling. Someone had to be warned of Tus' plan.

Nizam. His uncle would believe him. Dastan breathed out, feeling hopeful for the first time in hours. He had a purpose now, he knew what the dagger could do. If only he could get to his uncle soon. He buckled the horse, striding into the pool.

"What are you doing?" Ahh, Tamina. Her voice was sharp. He turned, and saw the worry on her face. And he was quite sure, it wasn't for him...

"My brother Garsiv can't be far behind us," he said, getting up onto Aksh. "She's the most famous horse in the empire. "This will obscure his tracks"

"Tracks? Where are you going?"she demanded, following the horse.

Well, she certainly wasn't going to back away, was she?

"Avrat," he replied, "where my father will be buried." He was determined not to let his voice shake. The pain of losing his father had yet to fade, and Dastan knew, it never truly would.

He heard the princess let out a scoff. She started walking backwards, her voice sceptic, "You're wanted for the King's murder, and you're going to march into his funeral alongside thousands of Persian soldiers?"

"Nizam will be there," he answered. Tamina refused to let go of the reins, as she tried to hold him back. "He's the only one I can trust, he will see I was set up by Tus"

What harm could it do to tell the princess. He thought it ironic. Here they were, relative enemies, yet they now knew each other's secrets and plans. Within a single day.

"Step aside Princess," he ordered, but somehow resigned. And he was right. She did not budge, but only pushed harder, hissing, "Every road to Avrat will be covered with Persian troops"

He smirked. Did she really think he'd march down to Avrat down a road? "I'm not taking roads" Dastan said "I'm going through the Valley of the slaves." It was an impromptu plan. Though, he realised it was be the fastest way to reach his uncle.

"No one goes near those wastelands," Tamina said, shaking her head, "it's filled with murderous cut-throats" Dastan smirked. Ahh, so she did want to come along, didn't she?

"Yeah, so they say" he carelessly replied, partly to aggravate her.

Indeed it did. "Your whole plan is suicide." Her face was filled with grim conviction.

Well, it was time to sort this out once and for all. Clearly she wanted to come along, and he wasn't quite decided whether he wanted her too. But if they were to travel to together, he had to tell her blunt and clear, of what she already knew.

"My brother murdered my father and left his blood on my hands, if I die trying to set that right," he felt himself grow grim," then so be it"

And pulled the reins of Aksh, as the princess moved aside of her own accord. Then behind him, he heard the splash of water, and tilted his head, smirking. She clearly didn't take well to being ignored.

"So you're going to leave me here? In the middle of nowhere?" she exclaimed, and Dastan rolled his eyes. At least she'd finally gotten to the point. "Noble Dastan, abandoning a helpless woman to the wilderness! What does your precious honour have to say about that?"

From her tone, he knew she wondered if he had any. But he did. Tamina was the princess of Alamut, and to leave her in the desert would equal to murder. This, right after his father's death, was not something he was prepared to do.

He turned the horse around sighing. He needed the princess anyway. Who'd know better than anyone about this mysterious dagger?

Dastan went back to the princess, and pleaded with the Creator. "Give me the strength not to kill her."

She gave him a scathing look, and mounted up. It was going to be a long ride.

"I still don't think your plan will work," he heard her voice behind him.

"Oh, and how exactly do my plans involve you, princess?"

He turned around, to see her glaring and wondering if that would be her permanent expression. Then, she burst, "How can you talk of such trifles when you carry the gift, Alamut's greatest treasure?"

"Well," he contemplated his words, "it seems to me, that the greatest treasure is no more. It's merely a trifle, now that your sands have been used up."

She pursued her lips, keeping silent.

"You know, I do think you would be far more furious, that you now lack the last bits of sands."

She raised her eyebrows, still adamantly quiet.

Dastan smirked, knowing he had struck her weakest. There definitely was much more to the dagger.

He pulled the reins, and Aksh neighed, speeding into a full gallop. And they were off.

It was hours before they reached near the Valley. Dastan knew none, not even his brothers, would dare enter the place.

"We'd better get off, princess. Aksh shall need his strength, "It didn't help the horse now carried the two of them. She scoffed at him, jumping down the horse, none too gracefully.

He rolled his eyes, hesitating for a moment. Perhaps, he could urge Aksh off, and Tamina wouldn't exactly be stranded. The Persian border was near enough.

"Whatever you're thinking, it won't work." She spoke, now her turn to smirk. "The noble prince Dastan, contemplating the thought of leaving the great princess in the barren sands."

"And what if I do give in to temptation, princess? I doubt you could do anything to stop me."

"Huh," she smiled, "I know of your plans Dastan. Your brother will trace us soon, and I doubt you'd want them interfering in your plan to meet your uncle."

Dastan sighed. "Contrary to what you think princess, I don't plan to abandon you. " Not too soon anyway.

"I'm thirsty," Tamina spoke suddenly. Before he could do much than raise his eyebrows, she pulled off the canteen, and doused herself in the few millimetres of water in there.

"Why princess, how noble of you, draining our entire water store at a go." He stared at her, as she pretended to ignore him.

"You know, "he warned with a smile, as she fell into a step behind him. "if you're thinking I shall die so soon, due to the lack of water. It won't be so easy to kill me."

For the first time, she seemed to suppress a smile of sorts.

She glanced down at his dagger again. Ahh, he rolled his eyes, as the recollection slowed him down. That was the reason she had been staring at him, back in the palace. The Dagger at his belt, that had been the reason she'd agreed to Tus' proposal.

The sun glistened off the myriad of sands. He wondered if they rest. Wait for the scorching midday heat to pass. Suddenly, a though struck him. He left Aksh, drawing out the dagger. Bending down onto the sands, he opened the jewelled hilt, putting some sands in. Excitement mounted in him. Would he turn back time again? Was the answer really so simple?

Then he heard Tamina chuckle, and looked up, distracted. "Without the right sand, it's just like any other dagger," she explained. "Not even a very sharp on at that." She went back to tying her robe.

The right sands. He had suspected it. Striding to the princess, he asked, "This sand, is there more of it?" He hadn't expected to confront her so soon, yet, he couldn't let this pass.

"Of course not," she scoffed. He wasn't deterred. "Where can we get some?"

"Try standing on your head and holding your breath," she replied scathingly. But he knew it to be a lie. This conviction was only strengthened as she quickly turned her head away, touching her necklace. Funny, he never did notice it. Perhaps the necklace had some sands. Dastan groaned inwardly. He really was grasping at straws. Still, he couldn't help but peer into her blouse.

He saw a vial of sort, hanging off like a pendant. Perhaps, perhaps he was right.

"See what you were looking for?" he glanced up, to see her raised eyebrows.

Dastan rolled his eyes. Attractive as she physically was, this obviously wasn't the time he would pick to lust. "Start walking." Was his only reply.

He heard her huff behind.

"You know, you really walk like one. The walk of a self satisfied, Persian prince, "he heard her scoff,. He was prepared for some sort of rant, but this was getting on his nerves.

"No doubt from being told from birth that the world was yours."

"I wasn't born in a palace like you!" he burst out, unable to bear the taunts. Whatever his faults, she wouldn't curse him for what he never was.

"I was born in the slums of Nasef, where I clawed and fought for my daily bread."

This silenced her. She looked at him closely, appearing, perhaps for the first time, curious, rather than furious. "Then how did you become a prince?"

Dastan thought back to the old days, as a young kid. To the day he met his new father, a stately man, atop a magnificent horse. "The King, "he stumbled, his voice consumed with emotions, "he marched into the marketplace one day, and, I don't know," Truly he did not.

_He turned back leading the horse on. An orphan on the street, with no family, stealing to survive. His parents, the vague memories of a home. Until they lay in their beds, dying of the plague. The house, being taken over, the riots. Meeting Bis, another street kid, who taught him the ways of streets._

"He-he saw something in me, and took me home. He took me home, gave me a family. What you're looking at, is the face of a man who's just lost everything."

She looked almost sympathetic. He turned back, when he felt her arm on his shoulder, stopping him.

He almost didn't hear it, but the Tamina had come much closer, and she said, "Forgive me. I didn't know."

He stopped the horse's tracks, looking at her. Though her face was composed, her eyes were genuine, when she had said she believed him. This time though, he caught the first signs of softness in them.

He smiled slightly, without letting his guard down. She might still have an ulterior motive. Turning back to the horse, he spoke, his back to her.

"Is it just me or did we exchange our first civil conversation, princess?"

He couldn't help but tease. Her annoyance served as a distraction to him, and she immediately put her facade of clam back on. "OH don't count on a repetition, Persian."

" At least the reference of the Persian is not follow up to a strike of your sword princess."

She was puzzled, but then realisation hit her. "The dagger," she murmured, loud enough for him to hear. "Dastan. Did I strike you?'

"With mild success." At her questioning glance, he rolled his eyes. "You slashed my chest princess."

She seemed stuck between smugness and irritation. "You should not have used the dagger," he heard her mutter.

"And you should tell me, princess, if you want to continue our journey, of what you know"

She had a steely glint in her eye. "No," she simply replied.

"Why am I not surprised, "H sighed. He knew she had the sands in her necklace, when they reached Avrat, he would take it from her then. After that, well, he thought a little sorrowfully, he'd have to leave her in the slums.

"So prince, were you driven to such a state of defence by a mere princess?"

"Something like that, "he replied mindlessly, turning back towards the horse.

"Well," she said loudly, no doubt to make her have he last word. "I hope I drew out some blood." As high priestess and guardian, Tamina had had considerable training the ways of the sword, but had yet to shed blood.

"And that you certainly did," Dastan muttered under his breath.

* * *

**What did you think? Please do point out typos if you can, and constructive criticsm is welcome. Or just tell me if you liked it.=)**


	9. The Valley of the Slaves

She was sure enough time had passed. The day was getting hotter, and they finally approached the walls, which even she was familiar with. They had reached the formidable Valley, known throughout the surrounding realms, Alamut and Persia being the closest.

"Welcome to the Valley of the Slaves, princess." Dastan turned to her, giving an exaggerated bow. She felt uneasy, and saw him grin wryly. Looking away, Tamina fumed, inwardly groaning that he had caught sight of her nervousness.

They crossed into the walls, and Tamina was surprised. What had she been expecting though, a sword at her neck, and the option of slavery or a silted throat? Well, Tamina thought, perhaps the...inhabitants of this place were not yet aware of their entrance. Surely even murderous cutthroats would need time to catch up. She tried to cheer herself up with such thoughts.

"Oh, upon the god..." she couldn't help but mutter, as her eyes fell upon an unseemly sight. Those bones! Skeletons, hanging in the air. Travelling gypsies, perhaps? Fear crept into her own bones, and she struggled to shake them off.

"Scared, princess?" Dastan spoke up. Really, how could this... insufferable swine! How could he enter these dark realms and be as cool as an oasis?

"Of course not," she quickly, too quickly replied, stomping forward to catch up.

Dastan shot her a look, and she knew he was enjoying this. He had gotten his "Persian stride" back, so she assumed he was feeling better.

But it was also frustrating, so terribly frustrating. Urgh, stupid prince, why did he have to tell her about his past now? Now she would have a conscience, whatever she would do to him.

For she had to do something. Then quite abruptly, an idea struck her. Oh gosh, dare she? He was quite oblivious, lost in his own thoughts. And promptly, she picked up one of the scattered bones, hiding it in her cloak.

She looked at him, walking without a backwards glance, knowing she would have to act on her plan, or risk the journey ahead. Prince Dastan was a formidable warrior, and even she was able to admit her own weakness, should he turn against turn her. No, she quickly decided, she would have to get rid of him.

Tamina knew she couldn't kill him, not after what he'd just divulged. He was Persian, but as hard as it was, for her to admit, she knew Prince Dastan was not a complete barbarian. And certainly, he was far better than those brothers of his.

She would have hurt him though, and that she didn't mind. Tamina sighed loudly, holding her hand to her forehead, swaying. This had to work. As she hoped, he looked back at her, giving her a look.

"I'm desperate for a drop of water." She swooned, hoping it was act was convincing.

"That's more than we have. After all, you so considerately emptied the canteen hours ago."

She tried not to glare at him, but felt oddly guilty. After all, it wasn't as though she was the only thirsty one. Well, she tried to concentrate; he would be put out of his miseries soon. She felt a little excited. Her first bloodthirsty mission, and there were still remnants of her torn pride. This after all, was the man who invaded her city.

Whatever his origins, knocking a prince of Persia down would be quite something.

Keeping up her facade of fatigue, she mustered all her irritation, and replied, "I wasn't born of this desert like you Persians, all shrivelled and angry." He was quite unfazed, walking on. Urgh! "My constitution is more… delicate" Tamina swayed a little, hoping she wasn't too obvious

He still did not deign to look back, but only called out. "I think you mean spoilt."

"The wells of Alamut" she sighed, for a moment, missing her home, "are famed for their clean, cold water, A gift, in this parched desert, you see, you Persians do not understand" As the heat shone upon her, she realised she quite meant what she was saying.

"Perhaps," he cut in, "if you spent more time guarding your walls and less admiring your wealth, you wouldn't be stuck in this situation." He remarked, laughing at this own wit.

Tamina rolled her eyes, but felt that he had struck the right chord. Their walls were strong, Alamut hadn't been breached for a 1000 years. Yet that ought not have prevented them from becoming so careless.

But still, she knew none of those armies had Dastan, the lion of Persia, a conniving, wall-jumping prince. She had seen what he was capable of.

She still felt annoyed though. Well, she suddenly grinned. He would not get away with that. This was quite the perfect moment, now that he was off his guard, still chuckling away at her expense. Breathing in, her plan sprung into action, she fell onto the sands, letting her eyelids close. This had better work.

Dastan's voice went on, further away. "Ha! A miracle! I've silenced the princess." She wished she could smack him, and curb that gleeful tone. If he left her there, well, that'd prove him to more dishonourable as she'd first assumed, and she wouldn't hesitate to knock him down from behind. But he did need her. He wasn't a complete fool, and knew there was more to the dagger, and if she was in his shoes, keeping the princess of Alamut alive was quite vital.

"Princess?" he called. Tamina smirked, her face hidden in her arms. Finally.

"Tamina?" he was getting closer, "Tamina!"

She felt Dastan shadow, and came close murmuring, "I can't leave you here. Tamina, wake up!"

She felt a little sorry for him, and a little guilty seeped, as she heard his tone, so full of concern. Could he really, genuinely care? But she had mission, and pushed away unfamiliar feelings. Tightening her arm around the bone, she braced herself. The opportune moment was coming.

"Can you hear me?"

Ahh.

SMACK! She hit him over with the bone, with all her strength. Dastan fell to the ground, losing consciousness immediately.

Tamina couldn't help but feel triumphant, ripping off the Dagger. "Yes Dastan, I can hear you," she replied, smirking in her victory. She quickly saddled onto the puzzled horse beside, before mounting up. She didn't doubt that Dastan would somehow survive in the Valley of the salves. He was... something remarkable.

He'd somehow survive this place. It was more of a reassurance, to herself. Even if all it did seem yet was a stretch of wastelands.

Though, why would she want him to survive? Adopted son or not, he was Persian royal. She shook her head, taking hold of the reins, as the beast was urged on, gaining speed. She felt the air, almost light before, now grow heavy, as grimness sunk in. To the high temple, she had to go. And quickly.

Dastan woke, feeling, the full blast of sunlight hitting his face. He squinted immediately, but then, made out faces. OH no. Upon the Creator. These couldn't be slave-trader. These were formidable people, a crowd, a blur as his vision focussed. He tried to get up. The last thing he remembered-

Tamina! He let out a string of curses. Oh, how could he have been so foolish? Of course she had been pretending! The princess might've been beautiful, but she was no desert rose.

And she'd now had his horse, Garsiv's prized stallion, going somewhere only the Creator knew.

"Do you know where you are Persian?" he sniggered, "And yet you enter still?"

"I-"Dastan could only blurt, but the man cut into his stutter.

"In the heart of Sudan, there is a tribe of warriors known as the Ngbaka. They strike fear into the hearts of all they cross."

And why in the world would he care about this? The man ignored him, determinedly going on with his speech, "The Ngbaka are masters of the throwing knife, wielding blades said to have been blessed by the Creator himself."

Dastan was confused now, but a little fearful. Something told him whatever these Ngbaka were their skills for blades and knives would involve him...

"Their aim is so murderously accurate, they can decapitate _three men_... with one strike" It definitely involved him, if the sadistic glint in the man's eyes was anything to go by.

He had to act, quickly. His eyes on the bone, just inches before him. Probably the one Tamina struck him with. Quickly, he made a move to grab it, when the man bent, shaking his head.

"Oh I wouldn't even bother doing that if I were you," he continued, a lethal edge in it, "do you know why?" Dastan shook his head, his sense on high alert. "This is Seso." Dastan glanced up at the tall black man. He had been focusing on the robed men surrounding him, but this man, with his leopard skin and fearsome brow. Lion of Persia or not, this new warrior was intimidating.

"He's an Ngbaka." Sheik Amar said gleefully, observing Dastan's shock."I had the good fortune of saving his life which means that he is now enduringly indebted to me. So tell me Persian." His voice was all seriousness now,

"Can you give me any good reason why I shouldn't tell Seso to put his next throw... just a little higher?"

Dastan shook his head, trying to clear his tangled thoughts. The Ngbaka raised his knife. Aiming straight at him.

"Wait!" he cried. These people, they were ruthless, if those stories were true. He vaguely remembered Tamina yelling out the same before Tus slaye-

Tamina. His mind worked fast. Surely these people wouldn't resist a woman of that scale of beauty. He grinned, a vague plan forming in his head.

"Sir, what would you say about a deal?"

"Sheik Amar, you can call me," Dastan couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. This man, his dirty robes and face, didn't quite look the sheik, but he thought it was best not to point that out just then.

The Sheik raised an eyebrow, but bade Seso to lower his weapon. "And what sort of deal would this be?"

"A woman, "he replied without hesitation. Tamina definitely deserved this.

"Ohhh , no, no " Sheik Amar said, as disapproval rang in the his tone, "contrary to what you think Persian, I don't keep any women in the Valley of the Slaves. Women of pleasure." The Sheik snorted. "Hah, a lot of care, you have to take. All those harem dwellers," he shuddered, "spoilt with their baths and silk. Oh trust me, I tried. But those whining, pure helpless sorts are no use. Not good for business. "

"Business?"

"Yes, and none o' your too," Sheik Amar snapped, but he was grinning. "Well, unless you've got something else to offer Persian, my men might just clear up with ye."

This certainly wasn't an expected turn of events. Dastan was a worried now. If they wouldn't take Tamina. Wait. He looked at Sheik Amar closely. Perhaps, another try, he thought.

"She's a beauty," Dastan slowly said, watching the Sheik pause, "and intelligent enough for your needs, " a little too intelligent, his mind added.

"Hmm." Dastan watched him, deep in thought. Perhaps now, as he looked around, would be the perfect chance to escape. But a glance at the Ngbaka's unwavering gaze bade him to freeze.

"I could use with a lady," The Sheik said, "we run, "he deliberately paused, "a profitable business. Certainly could use some women. Women with some brains. Rare breed those. But you better not be lying, Persian."

"Oh, believe me, this woman, you will not regret it." Dastan replied, feeling almost cheerful.

"And now, Persian, how are we to get to her?" the Sheik asked.

"That way, if you please." Was the prince's reply. He stood up, grinning as he pictured Tamina's reaction when he turned up with these men.

Sheik Amar too, looked rather more relaxed. The other men had lowered their weapons, and already mounting the horses. The sheik stepped forward, stretching out a hand. "Very well then, we have ourselves a deal." He grinned.

The ride was mostly in silence. Aksh's hoofprints, was rather easy to trace, but catching up, was harder work. Tamina, he groaned, feeling his irritation build up with every gallop. The further they rode, the more peril his life was in. The Sheik did not seem like a patient man. He cursed her, travelling. How fatigued Aksh would be.

And yet, he would have almost... admired her. No one had ever managed to outrun him. Still, that was only if he didn't have his own neck in the rope.

They rode on, the minutes turning into hours, and the sun, getting hotter. He missed Aksh. His brother's prized stallion was after all, the most comfortable and swift horse in the empire.

"There!" Dastan suddenly yelled. She was there, in front of him! The princess, there in the distance, he saw her figure. She had slowed her tracks, quite unaware of company.

His companions hurried, spotting the princess too. He couldn't quite see then though, through the dust that was kicked up by the galloping horses. It cleared before he could curse, and he could see her again, her figure, surrounded by Sheik Amar's men. Oh, he couldn't help but grin. Now her turn to suffer.

Tamina turned, getting down the horse, and caught of him. Her eyes flashed, and suddenly, she was fumbling with the necklace, hiding it behind the neckline once more. So she really was hiding the sands, Dastan thought, this just reconfirmed what he had already suspected. The vial did contain more Sands.

Well, her turn to suffer. Dastan grinned, slowing his tracks. "Hello again princess," he held out his arm, watching with delight as her face grew crimson.

She really was furious, indeed. Furious and helpless. Well, he thought, as she placed her sword in his hands, she needed to learn a bit of humility anyway.

Tamina glared, as he held out his hand once more. She only glared, slightly shaking her head.

He raised an eyebrow. "Surely you don't think I that daft do you?" She smiled a little at this, and on looking back, well, he guessed she probably did.

"The Dagger princess," he lowered his voice. Tamina understood. Her face contorted in anger, she placed the dagger in his palm, her whole hand shaking. He couldn't help but marvel. Surely you couldn't get that insanely furious?

"So this is the one eh?" Sheik's Amar broke in, said peering forward at Tamina, "You're right, she's not bad"

Tamina shifted her fury to the Sheik, who was quite oblivious, surveying her.

"Could smell a bit better though" Sheik said, leaning away, and he signalled to his men. Dastan grinned. Tamina's expression really was quite priceless. "Still," the Sheik turned to Dastan," we have a deal"

"Deal?" Tamina called out, irate, "What deal?" Was that fear in her voice? Well, it would be nice to see some sort of vulnerability in her He didn't quite feel too guilty conscious though. After all, whatever they were going to do, he wasn't selling her into a harem. Though that had been the initial idea.

But Dastan knew he wouldn't have left her there. She was the princess, a noble first of all, and really, whatever the princess thought, he was not so big a Persian brute as to leave her there. .

"Wait, I'll take her," he said. The men were typing her up, carting her onto the horse.

Tamina looked far more annoyed, but seemed struck dumb in her anger. The men shrugged, and he lifted her.

"Clever princess." He couldn't help but mock, as she was loaded behind him. Tamina let out a not very princessey snort, which instead of annoying, made him rather delighted. For once she didn't retort with an annoying remark.

His horse geared standing forth. He knew Aksh would be safe, he looked on of the Sheik's men led him off. Underneath all that dirt and now ragged saddle, it would be hard to see what he was worth.

As they rode off to a place he had no idea of, Dastan couldn't help but look at the woman in his arms, the ever present anger. She had now twice tried to outrun the lion of Persia. No other man, let alone women would've done that, except his brother. He shook away his sombre thoughts.

Tamina shifted behind him, moving closer. And he suddenly felt hot, and he wasn't sure if it all from the heat of the desert.

* * *

**So I finally finished NaNoWriMo, and school's out! Thanks firstly, to anyone still reading this story, and I'll probably churn out chapters faster.=) Still in love with Prince of Persia, but I think its slowing down, the obsession lol. I'll finish this fic, though...errr, someday, before I die at least, promise.=D Hope you liked this chappie!=)**

A/N : hey guys! So, to anyone reading still reading this, or even interested in it, thank you! We really do support each other in this community, its amazing. Anyway, this is to answer Dane, who asked when this story will be updated. Thing is, I wasn't sure either. With real life having taking over, its pretty much shredded my creative drive, as well as the fact my obsession with this fandom has died, so I'm really sorry, but I'm not looking to update this story anytime. But thank you, to everyone who kept reading till reaching here.:) Cheers!:)**  
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